Chapter 11 Griffin
Griffin
Griffin only stops long enough in the locker room after practice to grab a lightning-fast shower, then hurries toward the exit.
“Where’s the fire, man?” Elliott calls out behind him.
“See you guys tomorrow. Great work today!” Griffin says in response to Elliott and the whole team.
Elliott knows about the friendship PR-stunt agreement between Griffin and Aria, so he’s finally let up a little on the teasing about Griffin’s crush.
Now that Elliott knows their continued time together is purely a business deal, any attempts at claiming Griffin has puppy-dog eyes for the woman are easy to deflect.
Even if Elliott is kinda, sorta, mostly correct.
This time Griffin is the one doing the driving to Aria’s house, and as he nears, he feels the flutter of excitement.
Get a grip, he tells himself. You’re just dropping off a scarf.
He pulls up to the gate, reaches out his window, and hits the call button on the keypad, and disappointment flashes when Aria’s voice doesn’t come over the intercom.
Instead, the box emits a harsh buzz, and the gate swings open.
Griffin pulls through cautiously, down the long driveway, and finally stops in the round driveway.
One of three garage doors is open, and as his vehicle grinds to a halt, Aria strides out waving widely. Griffin smiles reflexively. She’s dressed in leggings, an oversized sweatshirt, and tennis shoes with long socks. Even dressed down, she’s a total knockout.
Griffin grabs the scarf from the passenger seat, steps out, and returns the wave with a flourish of the scarf.
Aria walks forward, and Griffin meets her halfway. He holds it out, and a twang of sadness runs through him as she takes it.
“Thank you,” Aria says. “I know it was a hassle to drive out here and return it.”
Griffin shrugs. “No big deal. I figured you might want to wear it again before The Late Night Show, and I didn’t want to leave you hanging.”
Aria looks up at him, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
Griffin glances past Aria into the garage and notes boxes that’ve been stacked, some partially unloaded. “A little late for spring cleaning, huh?” he teases.
“Or early, depending on your point of view. I get so many incredible items for PR that I genuinely don’t know what to do with them. Hopefully that doesn’t make me sound spoiled, but it’s just too much for one person. Well, two, really, since I share everything with my sister, Bailey.”
“We get a ton of clothing from brands too. Probably nothing compared to this.” Griffin hesitates for a moment. He wants to offer to help her. More so he wants to stay. “How about I tag in?”
Aria’s face leaps, and a chuckle escapes her. “Oh, I couldn’t ask that. Not even I want to be doing this, and it’s my stuff.”
Griffin reaches out and sets his hand on her arm. She feels strong but small, inconveniently like someone he could see himself sweeping into his arms. “Well, you didn’t ask. I offered.”
Aria turns and holds her hands out. “Well, you did come all this way. Might as well make it worthwhile, right?”
Inside the garage, rows upon rows of wire shelving have been arranged, and upon those shelves sit boxes of cosmetics, clothing, decorations, household goods, even nonperishable foods. It’s like a small department store more than anything.
Griffin must be standing there with his mouth hanging open, because Aria interrupts his thoughts: “I told you it was over the top.”
He begins to walk the shelves, running his hands over the boxes, taking stock of the contents through clear plastic. “It looks pretty organized. I’m not sure what you’re cleaning out.”
“I get alerts from local nonprofits about what they need, and last night I got a message from the women’s shelter asking for winter clothing. I know I have a ton of easy-wear stuff in here that I’ve received recently—tags still on—so I’m working through.”
Griffin stops at the end of a shelf and spots a football. His hands lurch to it as if pulled by a magnetic force. “You been holding out on me?” He peeks out from behind a shelf, and Aria goes to him.
When she spots the item in his hands, she laughs. “Again, these are things sent to me on the off chance I post about them or use-slash-wear them in public. Alas, the football company was disappointed.”
Griffin makes eyes at the ball in his hands. “May I?”
“Be my guest.” The grin that spreads across Aria’s lips is delicious, and Griffin can’t pull his eyes from it.
“Oh no, no. This is not a one-person activity. I need you too.”
Aria’s eyebrows fly high. “Absolutely not. I am many things, but a football player isn’t one of them.”
“And here I was thinking we were friends. You know, I’m a pretty good teacher.” He tuts playfully as he walks out into the cool sunshine and onto the grassy island in the middle of the circular driveway.
Griffin keeps going, hoping that Aria joins him out there on the grass. If his desire alone could orchestrate the events of the world, she would be right beside him. When he reaches the middle of the grass, he turns to look back.
Aria stands on the threshold of the garage, hands propped on her hips, her eyes squinted as if she’s taking stock. What Griffin can’t help but notice is that she’s moved closer.
“Surely you could use a break by now? Plus, we have two sets of hands. I promise I’ll stay until we find everything you need to give to the shelter.”
When a smirk catches at the side of Aria’s mouth, Griffin’s heart leaps. It’s a crack in her resistance, perhaps even a window to her saying yes.